hich it was surmounted. Streams of fire,
too, had darted down the numerous narrow alleys leading to the
river-side, and reaching the wharves, had kindled the heaps of wood and
coal with which they were filled. The party under the command of the
lord mayor had used their utmost exertions to get rid of these
combustible materials by flinging them into the Thames; but they came
too late, and were driven away by the approach of the fire. Most of the
barges and heavy craft were aground, and they, too, caught fire, and
were burned, with their contents.

Finding he could neither render any assistance, nor obtain speech with
the lord mayor, and anxious to behold the terrible yet sublime spectacle
from the river, Leonard hastened to Old Swan-Stairs, and springing into
a boat, ordered the waterman to row into the middle of the Thames. He
could then discern the full extent of the conflagration, and trace the
progress it was making. All the houses between Fishmongers' Hall and the
bridge were on fire, and behind them rose a vast sheet of flame. Saint
Magnus' Church, at the foot of the bridge, was next seized by the flame,
and Leonard watched its destruction. An ancient gateway followed, and
soon afterwards a large stack of houses erected upon the bridge burst
into flames.

The inhabitants of the houses on the bridge, having now become
thoroughly alarmed, flung bedding, boxes, and articles of furniture, out
of their windows into the river. A crowd of boats surrounded the
starlings, and the terrified occupants of the structures above
descending to them by the staircases in the interior of the piers,
embarked with every article they could carry off. The river presented a
most extraordinary scene. Lighted by the red and fierce reflection of
the fire, and covered with boats, filled with families who had just
quitted their habitations either on the bridge or in some other street
adjoining it, its whole surface was speckled with pieces of furniture,
or goods, that had been cast into it, and which were now floating up
with the tide. Great crowds were collected on the Southwark shore to
watch the conflagration, while on the opposite side the wharves and
quays were thronged with persons removing their goods, and embarking
them in boats. One circumstance, noted by Pepys, and which also struck
Leonard, was the singular attachment displayed by the pigeons, kept by
the owners of several houses on the bridge, to the spots they had been
accustom